Stay
by WindowChild
Summary: Gale and Prim, seeking comfort in each other.


At first, he'd tried not to watch. It seemed the easier pain, after all. He wouldn't watch, he wouldn't see what was happening to her. That way, he could remain ignorant.

But no… it soon grew apparent that this would be the harder resolve. Without seeing the reality, Gale was left alone with his imagination. He saw horrors; ones that he could only pray were pretend. Every second of every day was spent drenched in sweat and fear, and he found never knew when it was safe to breathe.

Then, there was the worst fear of all: that he wouldn't know. He would go to school, and some careless acquaintance would break the news. She was gone, and he was the last to know it. In its way, this would be the worst.

And so, by the sixth day, he watched. At school, at others' houses… anywhere he could, anytime he could bear to see her. Katniss. She was still alive, still fighting. It hurt him, it clogged his throat with paralysis and terror, but seeing her was the only solution.

He spent a lot of time at her house. Watching with her mother felt right, in all of its gruesome injustice. The two of them made sure that Prim never caught a glimpse, at least. They told her the hopeful news, and didn't let her see the close calls. This helped Gale too, helped him feel as if he was doing something for Katniss.

Of course, everything shifted all at once. It looked as if Katniss could win – and he breathed, a little bit – but then… Gale couldn't say it; he couldn't admit it to himself. The part at the beginning, with the confessions of love, he had passed off as game-talk. He hadn't seen it, only heard talk, but it was easy to take as falsehood. However, this wasn't. The kissing, the warm way they clung together… it seized his whole system with jealousy.

He watched mutely, every limb trembling with fear and anger. She left him, in more ways than he could bear to feel. And yet, it wasn't her fault. It would never be her fault, he knew, and so he couldn't just hate her with blame. He fell silently to pieces, and no one would care as long as two members of District 12 were fighting for their lives.

"Gale?" It was Prim, emerging from her mother's bedroom. She hardly slept anymore, Gale knew.

He fumbled quickly with the TV, turning it off. She wouldn't see; he'd make sure of it.

"It's okay," she said softly, sitting beside him. "I know everything that's been happening anyway."

"You do?" he asked.

She nodded. "Everyone's talking about it."

"Oh… I'm sorry, Prim."

He sounded so miserable that she felt her heart sear with pain. Poor Gale. "It's okay," she said again. "I don't – I don't mind so much. She might come home, Gale." Her voice squiggled with excitement, her face shone. She looked so hopeful.

"Yeah…" Gale replied. He looked away, feeling his thin rope of control growing frayed. She might come home, she might not. She might no longer be theirs, no matter _what_ happened.

"Are you okay?" She watched him, eyes creased in worry.

She was just like Katniss, Gale knew. She cared too much; she loved too many. He shook his head, unable to help it. Prim's likeness to her sister made her easy to be honest with.

"I miss her, I want her to come home."

"Me too," Prim squeaked, scooting closer. She nodded, her chin brushing his shoulder blade.

Gale shut his eyes, the sudden warmth destroying him. He knew Prim's pain was genuine and selfless; he knew that all she wanted was her sister to be safe. He, on the other hand, selfishly wanted so much more.

He choked on his own thoughts, sobbing tearlessly into his fist. Things would never go back to normal, whether Katniss came home or not.

"Gale," she said, sounding just as upset as he felt. His shoulders shuddered helplessly, wanting Katniss near to him.

Then, for a foolish moment, he allowed himself to pretend that Prim was Katniss. They were not identical, not at all, but they had the same heart. He cowered into her arms, ignoring the fact that she was years younger than he. He should have been comforting _her_, but he knew that she understood.

For another hour, they sat together. They helped one another, their arms locked protectively around each other. Prim stoically resisted the urge to turn on the TV - she wanted to see for herself what it was that had done this to the brave boy sitting beside her. He'd never know it, but she had loved him as a young child. After her daddy died, he was the only Prince Charming she had to adore.

"Prim," Gale said, at last. His tears were finally spent, his insides burning with an ambiguous lack. "We should go to sleep."

She wiggled away from him, her porcelain skin scarred by sadness. "Are you going to stay here tonight?"

He had been sleeping on their couch, at least two or three nights a week. "Yes," he replied, nodding. He pushed away thoughts of his own neglected family, knowing that they had enough food for the moment, at least.

"Check on your mom, okay?" he asked, feeling terrible for every slight burden he handed to her. "She seemed tired, earlier."

Prim nodded. "Yeah…" she said, her tender voice tickling the skin of Gale's ears. A part of him wished she wouldn't leave.

There was another moment, as their eyes met over the black TV screen, and then Prim leapt forward. She hugged him, as she'd always done, but it seemed to mean so much more. Her thin arms clung to his neck, holding him as close as she could.

"Prim," Gale said, feeling his allegedly washed-up emotions returning. "I – I –"

She nodded again, pulling away. "Can you stay here?" she asked, eyes wide. "Until Katniss comes home." Her voice didn't even tremble as she said it, something so set in her mind that it wouldn't allow room for doubt.

"Of course," Gale said, knowing that he would do anything for any Everdeen. He reached up, squeezing her hand without thought. He could help her too, he knew, if he only tried.


End file.
